


Looking Out for Great Days

by ac_123



Series: Shance Fluff Week 2017 [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ac_123/pseuds/ac_123
Summary: Lance plans on going all the way with his hunky new boyfriend, Shiro.  His past won’t let him move on.





	Looking Out for Great Days

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the most self-indulgent fic I may have ever written? Originally written for Shance Fluff Week 2017 and posted on my Shance Tumbler [here](http://heroworshiplusten.tumblr.com/post/161595381253/shance-fluff-week-day-5). HMU there if you ever want to chat.
> 
> NOTE: All non-con/rape and domestic abuse references are brief.

Lance was getting fucked tonight.

He saw it in the crackling sparks that popped in Shiro’s eyes the last time they kissed.

He read it in Shiro’s texts: _“Hope you don’t mind a quiet night in.” “My brother’s not going to be around, so it will just be the two of us.” “I’m looking forward to tonight.”_

He could feel it in his bones. 

Tonight, his dry spell would end and he. Will. Get. Fucked.

 _“Hey, I’m happy for you”_ , Hunk texted, _“but please don’t tell me about that.”_

Lance pouted at his phone. He hunched over, the top of his head tapping the shelf of condoms he stood in front of, and energetically typed back. _“Don’t you want to know the details??? D:”_

He returned to the task at hand: preparing for tonight. The wall of condoms before him was more intimidating than he had originally anticipated. Back when he lived in dorms he had gotten by with the free condoms Health Services put in the bathrooms at the beginning of the semester. Thanks to them – and occasionally his partner’s forethought – Lance had never found the need to actually buy condoms.

Shiro was a big guy, though. And Lance suspected he was a _big guy_. Those three-year-old, rinky-dink condoms weren’t going to cut it this time.

But so many options. Did Shiro have a latex allergy? Did he like to lubricate the inside of the condom? Did he even top?

Not that Lance would be disappointed with taking the reins, but he liked how it felt to have a big, warm body surrounding him. And, fuck, Shiro was just perfect for that: heavy chest anchoring him to the bed, wide hand skimming the peaks and valleys of Lance’s stomach and marveling at the slimness of his waist, rumbling voice telling him how _beautiful_ he was.

Lance blinked. His knuckles were white and his palms were red where his nails were digging in. Maybe…maybe not beautiful. Maybe he can be something else.

His phone buzzed. A leap in his chest, sunny and light, took off before disappointment pulled it back down. It was Hunk: _“I’d like to know how the date goes, but you can keep the sex stuff to yourself. I’ve seen you naked enough times, dude.”_

Lance typed out a quick, _“Fine ;^;”_ before his phone buzzed again. This time it was a brief but heart-warming message from Shiro. _“Alright. See you in a bit.”_

If he had been alone in his room, Lance would have melted. He would have curled up in a corner and screamed his joy into a pillow. He couldn’t do that here, though. There was a bug-eyed child staring at him from the end of the aisle and “in a bit” meant “in the next half-an-hour”. He made his decision – a value pack with extra-extra large condoms, just in case – and quickly hurried to the self check-out line.

~~~

Lance showed up to Shiro’s apartment early. Not too early. Being too early would make him seem desperate. So he stayed in his car for fifteen minutes, double-checking his supplies: he had his breath mints, his condoms, his toothbrush and a spare pair of boxers. Just in case.

When he was five minutes early, Lance texted Shiro and let him know he was there. Shiro responded with a smiley face and a _“Be down in a second”_ and bestill his heart. Lance thought he was going to throw up. He fiddled with his phone, reading his last text to Hunk – _“Wish me luck!!!!!!!”_ – over and over, opening and closing Facebook and trying to pacify his careening heartbeat.

Shiro stepped off the elevator with the comfortable confidence and blinding smile that came so disgustingly natural to him. Lance had wanted to punch him in his gorgeous, gorgeous, fucking perfect face when they met, and truthfully the desire never completely faded away. Now, though, he got his kicks out of watching that controlled smile grow wild and push itself wider and brighter every time they saw each other and, fuck, he was going to have a heart attack and die because of Shiro.

Shiro set a hand on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

Lance’s hand clutched Shiro’s black shirt. “It’s good to see you too.” He rocked forward, lifting himself on the balls of feet and giving Shiro a kiss of his own. He rocked back and _fuuuuuck_ Shiro had the cutest blush across his cheeks and the dopiest grin that he tried and failed to fight back.

“I, uh, I haven’t ordered food yet,” Shiro said. “Do you want to head upstairs and we can get started on that.”

“Sounds great,” Lance agreed. His heart finally began to settle as he stepped on to the elevator, the giddiness and anticipation freeing him from his anxiety just enough to reach over and hold Shiro’s hand.

They couldn’t stop touching each other. Shiro placed a hand on the base of Lance’s back as he showed him around the apartment. Lance propped his head on Shiro’s shoulder as they ordered Thai. Their thighs were pressed against each other as they ate. Lance had his hand on Shiro’s knee as they searched through Netflix. By the time the movie was half over, they were spread out all over the couch with Lance tucked between Shiro’s legs and Shiro’s prosthetic arm hooked around Lance’s waist.

Lance rolled his head to press his ear against Shiro’s chest. This was nice, he thought. He hadn’t been held like this in years. One of the biggest downsides of being single.

“Are you comfortable?” Shiro asked, voice a trickle of velvet running under the movie’s soundtrack.

Lance looked up. Shiro was looking down on him, eyelids low over his irises. Lance swallowed and propped his chin on his hands. “Very. You’re a really good pillow.”

Shiro chuckled. He slid the pad of his flesh-and-blood thumb over Lance’s lips _before grabbing his face and slamming his head against the wall_.

Lance clenched his teeth, the ridges of his incisors catching the swirl of Shiro’s thumbprint. Lance knew from the look in Shiro’s eyes, their sudden flash of silver. He fucking knew.

Shiro’s phone rang. The hazy light in Shiro’s eyes blinked away and he reached for his phone. Lance pouted and dug his chin into Shiro’s chest, glaring at the phone and the person who he was one hundred percent sure was interrupting his date.

“Hey Keith,” Shiro said. He ran the hard tips of his prosthetic fingers up and down Lance’s back. “Uh-huh.” He frowned and looked down at Lance. “I thought you said it was going to last all night.”

Lance sighed and turned his head over again. His cheek squished against Shiro’s warm, firm torso. He fucking knew it.

“Okay,” Shiro said. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He hung up and plopped his phone on the coffee table. “Sorry about that,” he said dejectedly. “Keith’s plans got cancelled, so he’s coming back earlier than he thought.”

Lance propped his head up again. “He’s just trying to steal our leftovers,” he accused with a pout.

Shiro laughed, but his disappointment was evident when he said, “I guess we’ll have to finish the movie some other night.”

Lance pushed himself up and settled on his knees, leaning forward as the couch cushions squished underneath his weight. “We can still do it tonight!” he said. “You have a laptop. Why don’t we watch it in your room?”

Shiro stared at Lance like he had to think about it. Lance lowered his head and left a chaste kiss on Shiro’s chest, right below his clavicle. When he looked up Shiro’s eyes were bright and a blush was creeping up his neck.

“Would you be okay with that?” Shiro asked.

Lance smiled and nodded. He felt another rake of alloy fingers before they got up and moved into the next room.

~~~

Lance didn’t give two shits about the movie they were supposed to be watching. He wasn’t even sure what it was. A comedy, maybe? He laughed a couple of times when he was paying attention, but once he was lying across Shiro’s bed with Shiro pressed up behind him, the movie was demoted to a half-assed distraction.

He was more concerned with how he was going to melt. He could already feel his guts liquefying and escaping through his skin. Shiro was up against him, chest-to-back and hip-to-hip, holding Lance with both arms around his waist. His nose nuzzled the back of Lance’s ear and lips skimmed over his skin. He had to be doing this on purpose. He had to know that Lance got half-hard at the thought of them being this close. He had to be some kind of psychic or something, because his thumb brushed over a sensitive patch of his stomach _just how you like it, right darling?_

Lance jolted and couldn’t fight back the partial moan he squeaked out, nor could he resist the shocked gasp Shiro let loose. Shiro’s thumb rubbed over that spot again, just above his belly button, and Lance responded by rolling his hips into Shiro’s lap. He bit his bottom lip. Yep. The XXL’s were a good call.

Shiro whimpered against the back of his neck. He splayed his hand across Lance’s stomach and ground his hips forward. Lance bent a leg and anchored it behind Shiro’s calves, giving him the leverage to push back and really make Shiro moan.

“Sh-Shit,” he heard as Shiro thrust forward. Lance laughed and spread his fingers across Shiro’s hand. He pushed back again and they were already in time with each other, syncing in perfect rhythm. Lance guided Shiro’s hand down from where it was holding him close to the uncomfortable outline in his pants.

Shiro grumbled something against Lance’s neck as his fingers mapped out the bulge. Lance turned his head, trying to look at him and asked, “What?”

Shiro pulled away – what? – and pulled their legs apart – _what?!_ – before guiding Lance onto his back. His left hand trailed down Lance’s shirt and he was definitely, definitely hard. His forelock hung in front of his eyes. He was smiling and lovely and staring at him like there was nothing and no one else in the world he would rather be looking at right now. Lance hadn’t felt this light in years. He laughed under Shiro’s gentle scrutiny and winked, hoping to spur him on.

Shiro laughed and bent over, settling one arm on either side of Lance’s head, lowering himself down and whispering “Lance” on the wave of a sigh. _Plantinum blond hair fell in Lance’s face_ as he closed his eyes and _pressed his arm harder across Lance’s chest._

Shiro’s forehead was sweaty, a fact Lance recognized before he noticed that his hand was stopping Shiro from coming closer. All of the light and airy feelings he had turned to electric panic. He shook as he recognized the hurt in Shiro’s eyes – no! – and as Shiro pulled away – _no!_ – and sat next to him with his hands settled in his lap.

“Lance?” he asked, sounding worried. “Are you okay?”

“Fine!” Lance snapped. “Fine! Perfectly fine!” He wanted to lift his hands and grab Shiro and pull him back down, but his arms were frozen and he was shaking so badly.

Shiro scowled. “No you’re not. You look–”

“Like a sexy mother fucker?” Lance cut in. God, his voice sounded horrible. It was too high and tight and his throat was squeezing shut and what was wrong with him? He thought he was over it.

Shiro scowled at him for another couple of moments before everything smoothed over into concern. “Lance,” he said quietly, “if I did something wrong–”

“You didn’t,” Lance said. “You did everything perfectly.” When his still-shaking arms finally moved, they came down and across his chest, hugging himself like he had three years ago. He rolled onto his side and pushed his face into the pillow.

He thought he was over it. He thought he was better. He stopped having nightmares about blond hair blinding him and big hands holding him down as he tried to twist away. He stopped having the sensory flashbacks of pain and a cool British voice whispering instructions on how to _like it_. All of that had stopped.

So why?

“I want to,” Lance whispered. “I really, really want to. I just…” He sniffled. Fuck. Great. Now he’s crying. “It’s been a while,” he said. “And…and last time…was really, really bad.”

There. He said it. Now Shiro can feel bad for him. He can say what everyone else has said:

_“I’m so sorry.”_

And.

_“No one should have to go through that.”_

And.

_“I'll never touch you like that again, I promise.”_

Lance looked over his shoulder. Shiro’s knees were bent and propped up in front of his chest with his arms hanging around them. His forelock was brushing against his nose as he raised his head to get a better look at Lance’s expression.

“I understand if you don’t want to,” he said. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything. I never wanted to make you feel like you needed to do anything.”

Lance rolled on to his back, noticing the dark patches of tears he left behind.

“But,” Shiro started, “if you feel comfortable…and you don’t mind me touching you…we could lay here together and you could…talk. If you want.”

Lance blinked at him, raising and lying a hand by his head.

Shiro looked away. He ran his fingers through his hair and quietly added, “And if you want to…tomorrow…we can get breakfast?”

Lance smiled and rubbed the streams of tears that he couldn’t stop. He sniffled and laughed and rubbed his face. He pulled Shiro down next to him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, burying his head into Shiro’s neck with a hiccup.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. Shiro’s skin had a savory taste that lingered on Lance’s lips. Like salt and charcoal. He kissed him there and sighed. “Holding each other…and breakfast…that sounds really nice. I’d like that.”

Shiro settled half on top of him and squeezed an arm under his back, pulling him in close. Lance kissed him on the neck again – light and feathery and sweet – and nuzzled the side of his neck.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Shiro sighed and kissed him on the shoulder. He mumbled something too low and close to Lance’s skin for him to hear. Lance didn’t push for him to repeat. He spread his legs to fit Shiro’s between them.

Sometime later, Lance helped Shiro take off his prosthetic and turn on another movie. Hours later, he dozed off, fingers rolling the white tips of Shiro’s hair, Shiro’s arm still wrapped around his middle and face pressed against his chest.


End file.
